


Sandwich In The Darkness

by Silent_So_Long



Series: Four Times Kirk Ate and One Time he didn’t [3]
Category: Star Trek (2009)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-30
Updated: 2011-07-30
Packaged: 2017-10-21 23:49:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/231233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silent_So_Long/pseuds/Silent_So_Long
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt: Touch</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sandwich In The Darkness

Kirk’s cabin was dark, too dark to see much of anything. He yawned into that thick, inky blackness, too weary to call out for the lights to switch on. He yawned again, as his stomach joined in with the captain’s own personal orchestra of bodily noises, lending its own brand of rumbling drones in direct counterpoint to his yawn.

Kirk rubbed one hand over his lean stomach and grimaced to himself. He hadn’t had the time to eat when he’d returned to the Enterprise the evening before, too weary after a mission to an unknown, uncharted planet, looking for replacement dilithium crystals. The crystals had been successfully mined and returned to the Enterprise, yet Kirk’s stomach had not been successfully catered to. All the captain had wanted to do upon returning to the ship, was collapse into bed..

Now he was awake at some unknown and definitely unearthly hour with a gnawing hungry ache in his stomach. He turned onto his side and wondered whether he should risk a walk down the ship’s corridors to grab himself something to eat. He sighed, knowing that he was far too comfortable in bed to walk anywhere, and he didn’t know what he wanted to eat anyway.

He blinked into the darkness, a frown slowly working its way across his forehead, as the scent of food nearby crept into his slowly wakening senses. It smelt like freshly baked bread and the sharp tang of possibly Vulcan cheese. He could smell pickles, too, somewhere beneath the smell of baked goodness.

He sat up but still did not bother with the lights. Instead he reached out until his hand connected with the shelf next to his bed, fingers splayed across the smooth surface. He skated his fingers across the shelf, seeking something he could smell and not see, until finally his hand connected with a plate. He snatched the plate from the shelf hungrily, before prodding to make sure there really was a sandwich laid out upon it and not some kind of a trap.

He grinned to himself when he found his fingertips squidged satisfactorily into a thick slice of fresh home-made bread and he picked up one half hungrily, still without turning on the lights. He decided he didn’t need to see to enjoy a perfectly good sandwich, especially when he’d ascertained through the power of his fingertips that it was a good sandwich, homely and filling.

He made appreciative sounds as he finished the first half of the sandwich, before feeling in the dark for the second. That part of the sandwich soon went the same way as the first, before the captain set the empty plate back on the nearby shelf. He patted his now satisfied stomach and laid back on his bed, falling asleep within seconds.


End file.
